


All-American Beef

by Bohemienne



Series: Ficmas 2016 [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, Feminization, M/M, Nipple Play, Size Kink, USO Chorus Girl Dress, World War II, ficmas2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemienne/pseuds/Bohemienne
Summary: Bucky adjusts to Steve's new body. There's a chorus girl dress involved.* By request for Ficmas 2016! *





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obstinatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinatrix/gifts).



> By request for **Obstrinatrix** for Ficmas 2016!
> 
> "Ummm anything to do with Steve and his curviness contrasting with his pre serum skinniness and bucky being maybe into his tits with poss feminisation kink?"
> 
> WISH GRANTED and because it's me of course it got all sad for no good reason
> 
> (Requests still open--[send 'em in!](http://starandshield.tumblr.com/ask))

 

Three drinks in and Bucky just wants to shed his skin like a snake. The London pub is too loud, pressing in all around him, and yet it’s still not loud enough to quiet the roaring thoughts inside his head. He couldn’t bear to be around Steve earlier—not feeling the way he is. Not when he thinks about reaching for Steve and instead feels the echo of a cold metal clamp around his wrist.

But when Steve left the pub, he looked so—hurt. Like he was back to ninety-five pounds and Bucky was shipping out all over again. Bucky shakes his head and tosses back the rest of his bourbon; waits for the burn and the hum in his blood that doesn’t come. He just needs to see Steve again. He doesn’t have to talk about what he went through.

Just to see him—that’d be enough.

Bucky staggers through the icy streets toward the officers’ barracks. Despite the winter chill setting in, he’s burning up; he shoves his sleeves up, but stops when he spots the track marks on his arms. _Keep it together. Keep it together for Steve._ He clenches his teeth together and heads up toward the gate.

By the time he reaches Steve’s quarters, he can almost play a forgery of his old self again. He prays it’ll be good enough.

Steve answers the door almost immediately, cracking it open. “Guess you couldn’t sleep either,” Bucky says. “Listen. I’m sorry for giving the brush-off back in the pub.”

Steve relaxes when he sees him and opens the door to invite him in. “Buck. It’s—It’s okay.” He steps back. “I know it’s been a while, and I . . .”

But Bucky doesn’t hear whatever he says next, because Steve flicks the light on, and he’s shirtless, and— _Mother fucking Mary._

He knew the serum had made Steve bigger, stronger—he’d gotten the rundown on the long march back to camp. It was one thing to see him all bundled up in his uniform and leather jacket, though, and quite another to see that muscle laid bare before him, warm and gleaming.

Steve flushes and hunches forward, self-conscious. “I, uh . . . I told you the serum . . . Well, I mean it—”

“Jesus Christ, Stevie.” Bucky’s stomach twists, and he can feel a long-buried yearning surface once more. “You’re like goddamn Atlas or something.”

Steve locks the door to his quarters. “I guess I am.”

“You’re just—” And then Bucky’s throat catches on the months and months of distance between them, on the doctors and their needles and their scalpels. On how sure he’d been he’d never see Steve again. “—You’re goddamned beautiful.”

Steve eases, smiling softly with those gorgeous pink lips of his. For all the distance between them, for all that Steve’s been transformed, for all that Bucky feels ruined—those lips look like home. All Bucky wants is to kiss them again.

“I missed you, Buck.” Steve lowers his gaze, golden lashes flashing in the light.

Bucky takes a step toward him, his chest burning. “Sweetheart.” His mouth feels dry and cottony and sour from the booze. He hasn’t said that word in so long, and it doesn’t roll right off his tongue, but it feels so good to say it once more. He prays Steve still wants to hear it from him.

“A-am I still?” Steve asks shyly. “I was worried you . . . I dunno.” He shrugs his shoulders, his motions still all boyish and slight. “Thought you wouldn’t like me this way, I guess.”

Bucky snorts. “Are you fuckin’ kidding? Of all the stupid things, Rogers, I swear to Christ—”

“I just mean, it’s so—so different.”

“Stevie. Baby.” Bucky steps closer, and he has to lift his chin to meet Steve’s gaze. He has to look _up_ to see him. “It’s takin’ every last bit of restraint I got not to shove you up against that door.”

Steve’s cheeks flush. He holds Bucky’s gaze, a faint smile tilting his lips. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

“Sweet’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

Bucky leans into Steve’s mouth, slowly, almost as shy as their first time when they were just teenagers drunk on hormones and love. All he wants is to force Steve’s mouth open and grind against him, put his hand around his throat, feel his hot blood throbbing in his veins as the fire burns in Bucky’s own. But no, Steve is sweetness and light, and even in this new body, he deserves tenderness. He deserves this slow working of mouths and soft press of lips and Bucky’s tongue so gently prodding Steve open, trusting and slow.

Steve’s kissing him back. Isn’t that enough? Steve wants him still, doesn’t care what’s been done to him—Steve just yields and yields and makes Bucky his own all over again. And if he didn’t just taste like the sweetest spring sunshine, or the juiciest apples in fall, or like everything Bucky dreamed of, wished for, while he was strapped down and begging to see his Stevie’s face just one more time—

They ease back, slowly, Steve all blushing like a schoolgirl, and Bucky clenches his fists at his sides. He thinks of hoisting Steve up by his thighs, wrapping Steve’s slender legs around his waist, thrusting his tongue deep into Steve’s mouth and making him beg and squirm. But it’s not the Steve of _now_ he’s picturing, and he keeps hearing the doctors chattering in German and the sound of that awful machine.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Bucky says, trying to keep himself grounded in the now. “I know it’s—it’s been a long time—”

“You’re sure you like me still.” Steve glances down at his body, and then one of his pecs _twitches_ and Bucky can’t stifle the moan rising out of him. “I dunno, I guess I thought one of the reasons you liked me was because . . . I was all tiny and delicate. Y’know. Like maybe you could pretend I wasn’t—”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” Bucky can’t take it any longer. He seizes Steve by the hips, oh god those muscular, broad hips, and presses him against the door, but it’s so much gentler than he wants to be. He blinks away visions of blood and fire and focuses on the gorgeous god in front of him. “I love you because you’re _you_.”

Steve bites his lower lip, flushing it a warm red. “I missed you, Buck.”

“I missed you, too, baby.” Bucky wants to sink his teeth into Steve’s neck, his collarbone, those sweet, firm nipples. He feels wild, frantic with this fire inside him. But it’s been so many months, and he’s got to keep it together. He settles for kissing Steve’s cheek, then nuzzling his nose against Steve’s throat. “Are you still my baby? You didn’t forget about me while I was gone?”

Steve exhales shakily. “You have no idea.”

“I think I might.” Bucky traces one hand up Steve’s side, playing along the ridges of his lats. “Besides,” Bucky says, “you’re still every bit as beautiful.”

Steve laughs. “Beautiful, huh?”

“You bet.” He drags one fingernail over Steve’s nipple and grins when Steve sucks his breath in. “I know, I know, you didn’t like when I’d call you that—”

“It’s not that I didn’t like it.” Steve brings one hand up to cup Bucky’s cheek, and Jesus, but it’s massive, like a goddamn bear paw. Bucky rubs against it as he draws another circle around Steve’s nipple. “I was just self-conscious, I guess. I was scared you were calling me girly things because you wanted to pretend I was a girl, or something.”

“And how about now?” Bucky pinches the nipple and looks up at Steve with a dark smile. “You still feel too girly for me now, sweetheart?”

Steve’s back arches against the door. He swallows, throat bobbing. “N-no.”

“No?” Bucky darts his tongue across his lips and ducks his head. “What about now?”

He closes his mouth around the piqued nipple, and laughs to himself at the soft whimper Steve makes. His tongue swirls over it, then he sinks in with his teeth.

“J-jesus Christ,” Steve hisses.

“Sorry, babydoll.” Bucky kisses his collarbone. “They’re just so big and juicy. It’d be a shame to let ‘em go to waste.”

Steve grins, his pupils wide and dark. “I almost forgot that mouth on you.”

Bucky’s muscles twitch. His first instinct is to bite, squeeze, thrust. The lust in his body and violence in his head are mixing together, toxic and ravenous. But Steve is—sweet. Gentle. Big or small, his heart is soft and full of warmth, and Bucky doesn’t want any of the poison inside him spreading to Steve. Sweet—they both need some sweetness.

“I’m gonna make you remember,” Bucky says instead, fighting back the urge to lash out. “While I get to learn every new part of you.”

Steve feathers his fingers through Bucky’s hair and pulls him in for another kiss. He still moves his jaw in dainty motions, tongue brushing tongue, lips plush and tender. When Bucky finds the temptation growing in him to bite down, he backs away. Takes Steve’s hand in his and guides him back toward Steve’s cot.

“C’mere, baby. Let me see those gams,” Bucky purrs as he sits on the edge. His fingers tremble so hard he can barely undo the buttons on his dress jacket, but finally he works it apart and leaves it open.

“Yeah?” Steve hooks his fingers, shyly, under the waistband of the standard-issue sweats he’s wearing and starts to ease them down. When Bucky makes an approving noise, he turns his back to Bucky with a flourish. The minute his waistband makes it over the curve of that chiseled ass, Bucky reaches out with a groan and brushes his fingertips over its curve.

“God damn, baby. Look at you.” He bites down on another moan. It’s like a marble statue. Bucky wants to put that ass on a pedestal and display it in a museum. And more than anything, he wants to feel it grind against his cock while he makes Steve moan, because as sweet and tight as Steve used to feel, now he’s got to feel like fucking heaven now. “You’re all ripe like a peach.”

Steve lets the sweats drop and steps out of them. “Liking the view?”

Bucky fists his hands against his thighs and lets out a low whistle as he takes in Steve’s long, muscular calves, the powerful thighs . . . “Those legs go on for days.”

Steve starts to turn toward him and Bucky’s heart thuds as his gaze drops to the space between Steve’s thighs. “Sweetheart—” Bucky stammers.

With a smirk, Steve runs his fingers down the ridges of his abdomen and twists his hand around his bared cock. Bucky never minded his size before—he fit inside Bucky without much stretching, and Bucky loved being able to fit all of Steve in his mouth and suck him until he begged and pleaded for Bucky to let him come. But this is something else—thick and long and dusky, a thin trail of precome dripping from the head.

“See something you like?” Steve asks.

“God damn.” Bucky tries to force himself to breathe normally. “God damn, baby. Come here.”

Steve struts toward him, and Bucky wraps his arms around his waist. His teeth graze over Steve’s hip as he kisses his way down the velvety V of Steve’s groin and burrows his nose in the soft thatch of golden hair around the base of his cock.

“I’m sorry if it’s . . . too big.” Steve’s voice thins out, embarrassed. “You don’t have to—”

Bucky silences him with a flick of his tongue along Steve’s shaft, and Steve’s thighs tense within his grip.

“I’m sure I can find a way to make it work,” Bucky says. He lets his breath gust over the length of Steve’s shaft. “Bet you taste every bit as sweet, too.”

He closes his mouth around Steve’s cock, sliding as far as he can before Steve’s head is pushing against his throat. Bucky stifles a choking sound. He’ll have to get used to this. But the size is forcing him to work carefully, lips rounded, jaw stretched wide, and after he bobs his head a few times, he finds a comfortable rhythm, and his toes are curling inside his boots.

He pops his mouth off of Steve with a loud noise and, keeping his lips pressed against Steve’s head, looks up at him through his lashes. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “I’ve got, um . . . a little more endurance than I used to.”

Bucky raises one eyebrow as he works his tongue against Steve’s slit. “And how’d you learn that?”

And there’s the blush Bucky knows so well—the one that takes over Steve’s whole body, all the way to the tips of his ears. “I told you I missed you. Whenever I had a spare moment on the road, I’d just—” He shivers. “Think about the last time I saw you. Y’know, when you were stripping out of your uniform for me, all nice and slow . . .”

Fuck, it seems like a lifetime ago, but Bucky warms at the memory.

Steve clears his throat. “—Anyway, it would take a lot more effort for me to come. Another serum side effect, I guess.”

Bucky swishes his tongue around Steve’s head and savors the sharp tremor it draws out of Steve. “I’m sure we can find a way, babydoll.”

Steve laughs, then trails one finger down Bucky’s jaw toward the collar of his shirt. “Not with all these clothes on, we won’t.”

Bucky presses his forehead against Steve’s thigh. “Good point.” He releases Steve after one more kiss to the tip of his cock, then starts to fiddle with the buttons on his dress shirt. He’s still shaking, though, and his fingers won’t cooperate. “Err—be a darling and help me out here, won’t you?”

Steve crouches down in front of him with a grin that squeezes Bucky’s heart like a fist. “Sure thing, soldier.”

Bucky groans as his cock hardens from the reverent tone in Steve’s voice. Steve fixes his blue gaze on Bucky as his fingers work open Bucky’s dress shirt, then slides it off of him along with his jacket. Rocking back on his elbows, Bucky lifts his hips up to give Steve better access to his belt buckle.

—Tries not to flinch as he imagines the medics strapping him down—

—Focuses on Steve’s gaze. So full of warmth and love and everything Bucky never thought he’d have again, and he just wants to cry, because how did he get so fortunate to share a life with Steve Rogers? To think he’d lost it, but for Steve to find him again?

Then Steve is pulling him out of his trousers and boxers and he’s wearing nothing but his dog tags and he wants to pull Steve into his lap and—

“Steve?” Bucky blinks, then squints at the open suitcase over Steve’s shoulder. “What the hell is that?”

Steve follows his gaze as he stands up. “Oh—that.” He strides toward the suitcase, then bends over, deliberately waggling his hips as he does so. Bucky whimpers and adjusts his growing erection to lay flush against his stomach. “A little something the girls in the chorus line made for me. Thought they were hilarious.”

He yanks the dress free from his suitcase, and in a cascade of red, white, and blue silk, unfurls a skimpy dress with a ruffled skirt. “Stevie,” Bucky gasps. “Oh, Stevie.”

Steve holds the dress against his meaty torso and gives it a little swish. “Wait. Do you want me to . . .”

Bucky holds back the string of obscenities forming in his mouth. “Baby.”

A smile spreads across Steve’s face, slick as oil, and he fumbles for the zipper. “Well, they _did_ make it my size . . .”

“Oh, sweetheart. I gotta see how those juicy knockers of yours look in that.” Bucky fists his cock now, letting his pulse simmer as he takes in every slight movement of Steve’s muscles. “Please, baby. I bet you look like Christmas morning.”

“Or the Fourth of July, maybe.” Steve steps into the dress and pulls the straps up over his shoulders.

Bucky groans again and gives his cock another tug as Steve zips up the back. “Jesus Christ, baby. You’re a goddamned angel.” He takes in the sharp V of the blue silk bodice as it frames Steve’s tits and abs, and the already-barely-there red and white striped skirt, tented horribly by Steve’s erection. “Turn around real slow. Let me get a good look.”

With a wink, Steve obliges, giving the skirt a little flip. It doesn’t even reach to the bottom of his ass as he turns, which Bucky is all too grateful for. And the way the silk clings to every flawless cord of muscle . . .

“Babydoll.” Bucky can’t suppress the growl in his tone. “Here. Now.”

With a hungry smile, Steve struts toward him, skirt swishing around his hips. “Oh—one minute.” Steve heads toward his dresser and, with another twist of the skirt, he makes a show of digging around in one of the drawers, then tosses a metal tin onto the mattress beside Bucky. Vaseline. Bucky grins and opens his arms for Steve to step into.

Steve shimmies toward him with a broad smile. Bucky wraps his hands around Steve’s thighs, and this time, he doesn’t have to force himself to be gentle. Steve makes it easy, moving so delicately, like he’s still that skinny little beautiful shit who drove Bucky wild back in Brooklyn. As Bucky hoists Steve onto his lap, he doesn’t care how much heavier he is, how his thighs squeeze firm around Bucky’s hips. He just loves having his baby in his arms once again.

It also doesn’t hurt that Steve’s now the perfect height. Bucky squeezes Steve’s hips, thumbs slipping under the silky skirt, and he bites at the meaty pec looming right in front of his face. Steve’s head tips back as he moans. An open invitation, as far as Bucky’s concerned. He sucks at Steve’s skin, wondering just what it might take to leave a mark on his new body.

After a few seconds, he glances up at Steve. “So good to have you back where you belong, pretty thing.” With his nose, he nudges at the hem of the bodice to free one of Steve’s taut nipples. “You’re always so good for me. Always so sweet and perfect.”

Steve cradles Bucky’s head in one of his huge hands as Bucky swirls his tongue around the piqued bloom of his nipple. “I wanna be good for you, Buck. You deserve all the goodness you can get.”

For the briefest moment, Bucky is back on the examining table, exposed and cold and terrified—but no. He’s here, pressed up against the roaring warmth of Steve’s body, face buried in those juicy, beefy, all-American tits. As he nips harder at Steve’s flesh, he glides one hand around toward Steve’s ass and starts to tease apart his cleft.

“Oh,” Steve whimpers, as Bucky slides one finger between those firm cheeks and starts to circle his hole.

“Still so nice and tight,” Bucky murmurs. “You know just how I like you, baby. So good for me.”

Steve rocks forward, silk-covered cock nudging against Bucky’s stomach. “I’m always yours, handsome.”

“My perfect little girl.” Bucky pushes his fingertip against the puckered muscle. “Gonna take such good care of you.”

Steve shudders as Bucky’s finger breaches him, and his hips cant back to push himself further down. God, he’s so much bigger, but tight as a vise and warm as sin. Once Bucky sinks down to the knuckle, he crooks his finger, and Steve yelps with sudden pleasure.

“Ahh. There’s that spot, sugar.” Bucky nuzzles his face in between Steve’s tits. “God, I love the way it makes you sing.”

Steve tenses around his digit. “These walls aren’t all that thick, Buck.”

“What’re you trying to say?” He starts to nudge a second finger inside, relishing the way Steve’s back arches with a soft keen. “You don’t want the whole US Army to know what a pretty thing Captain America is? What a hungry little whore he is for my cock?”

Steve ruts against him at that, his cock brushing against Bucky’s, and Bucky shudders and leans back on the cot.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Bucky says gently as he stretches his fingers apart. “Show me how much you love it. Show me how bad you wanna ride me.”

Steve stifles a cry with clenched teeth as Bucky shoves his fingers deeper. The head of his dick is poking out from under the skirt now, leaking with precome, and Bucky takes his other hand off Steve’s hip to flick it onto his finger. Keeping his eyes locked on Steve’s, he shoves the finger into his own mouth and laps it away.

“Please, Buck.” Steve’s trying to keep his voice down, but he’s practically _whining_ , he’s straining so hard. “Please. I need you in me.”

“Mm. Maybe so.” He eases his fingers out of Steve’s hole and brings them to his mouth. Makes a big show of shoving them in and relishing the warm, earthy taste of Steve. “Or maybe I wanna see just how much you can take now.”

Three fingers—all slick with Bucky’s spit now—and it’s no effort at all. Two was the most he could ever fit in Steve before. It took so long to open him up back then, tears streaming down Steve’s cheeks as he pleaded for Bucky to fuck him, but not yet not yet he didn’t want to hurt him not yet—

Bucky works open the tin with his free hand and scoops a thick handful of it out. Steve’s breath hitches as he watches Bucky smear the Vaseline along his shaft. “Please, Buck.” He’s whispering now, straining and red-faced. “Please. I need you so bad.”

With a snarl, Bucky hoists him up by the hips and angles him over his cock. For all his added weight, he’s putty in Bucky’s hands, pliant and eager to please, and it makes Bucky throb with how bad he’s missed this. He locks eyes with Steve, his flush and wet and thick and beautiful Steve, and slowly, carefully eases him down.

“Jesus.” Bucky clenches his jaw as the tip of his dick nudges at Steve’s stretched hole. “Jesus, babydoll. Need you so bad.”

Steve closes his eyes, relaxing, and slides himself all the way down onto Bucky.

 _Fuck_ , but he’s so warm and tight and perfect. Bucky wants to cry with how fucking beautiful Steve feels, not better or worse but different and still _beautiful_ , but he can’t even think, he can’t do anything but lie back and thrust his hips up into his Steve. And that heavy weight, that massive beefy _god_ on top of him bounces on him so perfectly, it’s like he’s just trying to wring the cum out of Bucky, and if he keeps it up, it won’t take him long.

“So fucking good for me.” Bucky runs his palms back and forth on Steve’s thighs. “You feel like heaven, baby.”

Steve gasps as Bucky hits deep into him. He’s leaking against Bucky’s stomach, precome sticky and slick, doubtless staining his pretty little dress. He’s squeezing Bucky’s dick for all he’s got, and even with his muscles locked and his teeth clenched, Bucky can just barely hold back the fire raging inside him. He quickens his pace, snapping up and into Steve, and lets his head lift up off the cot.

“C’mon, baby.” He digs his fingers into Steve’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises if it were anyone other than Steve. “Show me how much you love it.”

One frantic thrust, and the look on Steve’s face, rosy mouth rounded, golden hair mussed and sweaty, strong jaw softened with pleasure—it burns it all away. All the pain and the fear and the nights screaming himself raw. He’s here, he’s safe, he’s with Steve again, he’s _home_.

With a cry, Steve is shooting streams of white across Bucky’s chest, and that does it. Bucky shoves him down and squeezes his hips as he lets himself go. Fills Steve up, white heat blazing behind his eyes as the world falls away. There’s a cry buried deep in his throat that he can’t let loose, but instead it just spreads through him, consuming him, melting him away until there’s nothing left.

“Bucky?” Steve whispers after a minute, peering down at him.

Bucky blinks away the fog in his vision and tries to sit up. Steve carefully steps off of him—he still moves so daintily, so cautiously—and Bucky groans as his warmth and weight leaves him. “Stevie,” Bucky murmurs.

Steve steps toward the wash basin at the other end of his quarters. He fumbles with the zipper on his showgirl dress and wriggles out of it. It’s stained, and there’s a tear where the skirt meets with the bodice, but Bucky can’t hardly feel bad about that just now. He offers Steve a weary smile through the mirror, and Steve beams back at him, naked and gleaming with sweat.

“Here.” Steve brings a dampened washcloth toward the cot and wipes at his spunk on Bucky’s chest. “Sorry. I forgot to mention that I, um . . . There’s a lot.”

“And here I thought it was just for me.” Bucky closes his eyes, still grinning.

Steve finishes cleaning them both up, then shoves Bucky aside to climb onto the cot next to him. There isn’t nearly enough room, but on their sides, they can make do; Bucky pulls Steve into his arms and against his chest and presses his lips to the back of his neck.

“I love you so much, Buck.” Steve strokes at Bucky’s forearm around his chest. “When I thought I’d lost you—”

“Shh. Don’t think about it, baby.” He kisses Steve’s hair. “We’re here now. That’s what matters, yeah?”

Steve relaxes into his embrace. “Yeah. It does.”

“And besides.” He laughs, weary. “I got so much more of that gorgeous new body of yours that I wanna explore.”

“We got time, Buck.” He pulls one of Bucky’s hands to his mouth for a slow kiss that sends a spark down Bucky’s spine. “Now we got all the time in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Cry about sad grandpa supersoldiers with me on Tumblr!](http://starandshield.tumblr.com)


End file.
